Dark is the Night (OneChicago)
by Writtenhouse
Summary: What if a huge epidemic struck Chicago, hard? What then? Would the hospitals be full to overflowing? Would crime run rampant? Would there be fires, and murders, and heartbreak, and suspense? Would everyone survive? Guess you'll just have to read to find out! Disclaimer: I don't own Chicago Fire, PD, Med, or Justice. #OneChicago
1. chapter 1

Prologue: Epidemic

So, I did not mean to write ANOTHER book. But then I had this BOMBSHELL idea, and I couldn't get it out of my head, so, here we are. What can I say.

This was just kind of floating around in my head for a while, but then I made up a Brettonio oneshot which turned out to be the perfect catalyst for this story, and things just went from there. You'll see the oneshot incorporated into the story around chapters 4 and 5.

Also, this time I actually thought about different storylines and what would have the most potential effects, and I came up with the idea of an epidemic. It had huge potential, which includes but is not limited to:

Dawsey whump/fluff/drama

Brettonio whump/fluff/drama

Linstead whump/fluff/drama

Severide/Anna whump/fluff/drama

Actually, every couple whump/fluff/drama

Danger

Action

Bravery

Awesomeness

Cliffhangers

Major disasters

Major character death

You may see ANY or ALL of these in the story.

Oh and Linstead and Brettonio are still ships and sailing strong in this story, cuz neither of those couples should have broken up. The same goes for Severide/Anna.

Still interested? I hope so. Cuz you're in for a rough but awesome ride.

Love and Fire Trucks!

—Angel


	2. Old Men and Young

Gabby's POV

The call was normal; routine. But that was before everything went to hell.

The very day before, to be exact. The last normal day we'd have for a long, long time.

But how was I supposed to know that? I wasn't. So Brett and I headed out on a call as if it was just another windy spring day in Chicago. Which it was, of course. Just another average, banal spring day.

"Here's the accident" Brett said. I had already seen it from far down the road, so I hopped out of the ambulance as soon as it came to a stop.

Reaching the wrecked car, I peered in. Only one victim; an old man.

"Hey, I'm a paramedic. It's alright, we're gonna get you out of there." I reassured the man. He nodded.

"Sir, can you tell us what happened?" Brett asked as we worked to get the doors open.

"Sure thing, an ain't you a beauty!" Brett blushed. I don't think she was used to old men hitting on her.

"Well I was just driving down the highway," the old man explained, "an all of a sudden everything was spinnin' like"—here he made a revolving gesture with his hands—"like that. And nex' thing I know, I'm sittin' here."

I nodded. It sounded he'd possibly fallen asleep at the wheel.

"Okay, doors open. Ready with the stretcher!" I said. Brett and I eased the old man out of the car and onto the stretcher.

"You remind me of my daughter." The old man said, addressing me. I smiled.

"She had the same kind of eyes…pretty, but almost haunted-like." I frowned at this. What, exactly, was that supposed to mean? I decided to brush it off. Patients said all sorts of things after an accident.

I helped Brett to load the stretcher in the back of the ambulance, then I hopped in. It was Brett's turn to drive.

"Are you taking me to the hospital?" The old man asked all of a sudden.

"You were in a bad crash. It's a precaution in case you have injuries we can't immediately see." I told him. He looked unsure.

"In 'Nam, we didn't have no hospitals. Not good 'uns, leastways. This hospital's a good 'un?" He asked.

"Oh yes. I've been there myself. It's a good hospital." I reassured him. The old man still looked unconvinced.

"They got all the right medicine?" He asked.

"They have medicine for whatever it's needed for." I told him.

"They got nice nurses?" He asked.

"The nicest." I said.

"They boil the water before they give it to ya to drink?" The old man asked.

"Yea—wait, uhhh, I'm sure I can find someone to do that." I tried to cover up my confusion at his strange request.

The old man nodded, satisfied.

"You should always boil your water before you drinks it. Learned that the hard way, in 'Nam."

I smiled and shook my head. The man was quite a character. I decided that there wasn't much use in trying to convince him that Chicago was not Vietnam.

"Yes, sir. I'll remember that." I said, grinning.

Oh, the people you meet when you're a paramedic.

"He was…interesting." Brett said. We were driving back to the firehouse after delivering our patient to Lakeshore hospital.

"You should have seen the way the nurse looked at me when I told her that he wanted someone to boil all his drinking water." I said, smiling. Brett giggled.

"You think they will?"

I shrugged.

"Who knows? But it was still funny asking." I said. Brett laughed. Then her face turned slightly sour.

"He called me a 'beauty.' Am I really attractive to old men?" She asked, looking honestly worried.

This time it was my turn to laugh.

"Darn it! No thin mints!" I exclaimed angrily. I made up my mind to murder whoever ate them all; I had really been looking forward to some nice crunchy thin mints after a call.

I heard footsteps behind me.

"Looking for these?" A voice asked. I turned to see Matt standing in the doorway. In his hand was a box of thin mints.

"Give me those!" I said, marching toward Matt like a soldier storming a castle. Matt laughed and dangled the box just out of my reach.

"Matthew Casey!" I admonished. I had half a mind to smack my husband. Matt grinned.

"I have something better than thin mints." He said. Then he pulled me into a kiss.

Yep. Better than thin mints.

But I pulled away before we got too involved.

"Matt, we're at work!" I said. Matt pouted.

"Can't I kiss my wife goodbye?" He said with an obviously faked hurt tone.

"You're leaving?" I asked.

"Yeah. Alderman stuff. I got a complaint from some guy across town. I'll be back soon though."

I nodded.

"Well, come back safe, and after shift you can kiss me as much as you want!" I said, giving him a peck on the cheek before walking off.

A bit short, sorry. These first few chapters might be a little shorter than what you're used to from me. Just until I get to a part with more action.

And I apologize for it being boring; I'm absolutely hideous at writing fluff. Long ago I discovered that my talent lay in writing action and drama. So I apologize for this chapter as a whole, please keep reading anyway?

Next chapter expect some Chicago PD. Yay.

—Angel


	3. Homicidal Maniacs

Erin's POV

"Genneset Lynk." I read the name as I pasted a photo on the board. The photo was of a smiling girl about eight years old, with short braids framing an elfin face.

"She was found dead yesterday morning. Not a scratch on her. We're still waiting for the autopsy results, but there's a pretty strong possibility that she was poisoned." I said.

"Any suspects?" Jay asked.

"Not any with sufficient evidence. The only one that makes any sense is Genneset's stepdad, Elias Coin." I said.

"We haven't questioned him yet, but I ran his records, and it turns out, he was arrested five years ago for drug-running." I let that sink in. I could practically see everyone thinking. If only we had the autopsy results. Then the investigation could begin in earnest.

At that point Voight took over.

"Ok, Erin, Jay, go question Coin. Atwater, I want you to search out everything you can about this girl. Facebook, Instagram, Google, whatever. Dig deep. Olinsky, Burgess, you guys can go investigate Genneset's school. Find out what her classes were, who her friends were, everything. Ok, that's it for now. Everybody got it?"

Everyone nodded vigorously.

Knock! Knock!

Jay rapped on the door of apartment number 7, 403 thirty-first street. The door was opened by a dark-skinned man of about thirty, with a shaved head and a goatee.

"Elias Coin?" I asked. The man nodded.

"We're detectives from Chicago police department." I showed him my badge. Elias nodded again and turned to walk back into the house, leaving the door open for us to follow. He offered us seats on a comfortable leather couch, which we took gratefully.

"This is about Genneset." He said simply. It was more of a statement than a question.

"We just have a few questions." Jay said. Elias nodded. He didn't speak much, I noticed. He seemed a quiet, reserved man.

"I know this might be hard, but can you tell us exactly what happened yesterday?" I asked.

"Well, I was…I was getting breakfast ready. Pancakes, like she used to like. And…she didn't come out of her room at the time she always does, so I went in to check on her. I thought she was just sleeping, but…she…she wasn't breathing." Elias finished quietly.

"Did you notice anything unusual about Genneset the night before? Was she acting any differently than normal?" Jay asked. Elias seemed to think about this for a second.

"I didn't notice anything. She did her homework like always and then watched her favorite show. Then she went to bed. Nothing unusual about any of that."

"Any mood changes? Depression, low self-esteem, anything to suggest that she might have killed herself?" I asked. Elias looked shocked.

"No, never! Genna was always a happy kid! She had friends, she had a good life, she wasn't the kind to commit suicide!" He nearly shouted, horrified that we would even suggest such a thing.

"Ok, ok, it's just a precaution. Teens and pre-teens are generally high-risk, so it's a good idea to check." Jay attempted to calm Elias down.

"Genneset was in fourth grade, right?" I asked. Elias gave a sad smile.

"She would have finished fourth grade this summer. Genna is—was a great student." Elias's eyes filled with tears. He paused for a second in an attempt to compose himself.

"If she really was…if someone killed her, like they said, then I hope you guys get the idiot who did it!" He said, a look if dark determination etched on his face.

The autopsy results finally came in.

We were back at headquarters after questioning Elias Coin. He hadn't been much help; most of what he told us, we had already known.

I didn't really think Elias was guilty. He just didn't seem like the kind of guy who would commit murder. But then, neither did most people.

"Ok, results are in!" Voight announced.

Six heads looked up from their desks.

"They found no injuries, not even a scar. They didn't find any traceable poison, either. But they did find a marker chemical known as G4 X03. That chemical is produced when there's an overdose of toxic substances in the body." He let us digest the new information before continuing.

"So at this point, we can say the girl died of an untraceable poison."

"Did you guys find anything? Voight asked. I shook my head.

"Coin knows as much as we do. He won't be much help." I said.

"Burgess, Olinsky, how about you?" Voight asked the pair. Both of them just shook their heads.

"Atwater?" Voight questioned.

Atwater raised his hand.

"I might have found something. It's not much of a connection, but it might help." He said.

"Do tell." Voight said almost sarcastically.

"Well, three months ago Coin posted this on Facebook." Atwater turned his computer to show us a photo of Coin and Genneset in a park, both with huge smiles on their faces.

"And in the comments section, I found this.

"It was wrong, Alena. Why didn't you choose me? If you had, then I wouldn't have to do this." Atwater read the comment aloud.

"This was posted by Genneset's biological father, Ron Alko. It was followed by a stream of angry comments on several of Coin's social media accounts." Atwater finished.

"Who's Alena?" Ruzek spoke up.

"Alena Lynk, Genneset's mother. She and Alko split up five years ago, and she remarried a year later, to Coin. But she died three years ago in a car crash." Atwater explained.

"That should certainly be looked into." I said.

"You guys know what to do." Voight finished for me.

"Let's go."

Yea, I know, when am I gonna get to the main plot? Well you all will just have to wait, cuz there's still some stuff to work out first.

Don't worry though, it'll get better around chapter four. And these beginning chapters are, in fact, plot-essential. So just suck it up and hold on.

Anyway, I think I may have hit on a good scheme for keeping myself interested and writing more chapters. So that's good.

Next chapter expect some Dawsey fluffiness! (Which I epically suck at writing but I put in as a sort of apology in advance for the heartbreak later on.)

 ** _Review please?_**

—Angel


End file.
